


A Little Bit Weirder

by Little_Bunny



Series: The Weird 'Verse [3]
Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Aftercare, Facial Shaving, Non-Sexual Age Play, Pet Names, Platonic BDSM, Platonic Relationships, Queerplatonic Relationships, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:18:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21920713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Bunny/pseuds/Little_Bunny
Summary: As they are all getting more excited about this new thing, it gets a little bit weirder. But, like, it's good. It's really good. Sometimes you have to try new things to see what you think of them.Ryan's done his research, because while he loves to play, he doesn't *play*.Shane can't believe this is happening, but in the best way possible.And Sara? Sara finds this whole new dynamic between Shane and Ryan absolutely fascinating.It's working for them, anyway.
Relationships: Ryan Bergara & Shane Madej, Ryan Bergara & Shane Madej & Sara Rubin, Shane Madej/Sara Rubin
Series: The Weird 'Verse [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1563661
Comments: 24
Kudos: 104





	A Little Bit Weirder

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimers:
> 
> 1\. While this uses the names and likenesses of real people, this work has no connection to these people. The author of this work knows nothing about the actual personal lives of any of the people whose names are in this story, and this entirely fictional story is based on these people as fictional characters. Every plot point and detail herein is fictional and occurs in a fictional universe that may have some passing similarities to our own, but they're all coincidental and unaffiliated with this real universe.
> 
> 2\. This is not a how-to guide for BDSM in any way, shape or form, be it platonic or otherwise. These are fictional characters doing fictional nonsexual BDSM and kink in a fiction story. Do not use their play as your guide. Do your own research if you want to get into a BDSM relationship.
> 
> 3\. There are some disparaging words said about kink, being kinky, being little, etc. in this fic. The author does not believe these things. They are in service of the story. If you might find that triggering, please be aware.

As exciting as this whole new thing is, and Sara is nearly as excited (by proxy) about it as the boys themselves, make no mistake, life goes on. They still have responsibilities. The boys, at least, are right in the middle of filming a season of _Unsolved: Supernatural_ and thus spending a hell of a lot of time together, but that's normal too. In fact, for the most part, things are weirdly normal. For the most part. 

* * *

Ryan is super excited. They'd gotten freaking Giorgio Tsoukalos into the studio to talk about aliens, which he hopes will be as big a hit with their fans as it was with Giorgio himself. The guy is hella nice, and so enthusiastic about interviewing with them.

Even Shane was respectful, which Ryan had hoped for, but hadn't been certain of. He should have been--Shane could be an asshole, but he really tended to save that for loving jibes to his friends. He'd even managed to keep any particularly skeptical remarks or even looks to himself.

After the interview, once they had both profusely thanked Giorgio for his time and he had left, Ryan turns to Shane. "You did good, big guy," he says, putting a friendly hand on his shoulder. "Proud of you."

"For not being a jerk?" Shane says. "I do have manners, you know. I wasn't raised in a barn."

Ryan laughs. "Your skepticism has been known to come out in weird little passive-aggressive spurts at the worst times," he reminds him. Shane shrugs.

"I am from the Midwest; it's practically what we're known for," he says. "But I was trying to be on my best behavior."

"Well, congrats on a job well done," he replies. "You wanna go get Chipotle?"

* * *

They'd talked about the not-so-little little thing for a good while that night when they'd fallen asleep on the couch, and Shane had agreed with equal yearning and reluctance that they could try it, but he needed time to make peace with the idea. Ryan had, with surprising tact, not pushed him at all. Shane had sat with the idea of being or at least trying this little thing, and after a couple of weeks he thinks he's come to terms with some of it.

One thing he doesn’t really do is a ton of research. He’s seen some of the weird shit that the internet has to offer, and he doesn’t want to run into anything that is going to gross him out or otherwise ruin the idea for him. He hesitantly types "littles" into YouTube (figuring that there won't be anything too pornographic or otherwise terrifying there due to advertising pressure) and clicks on the first documentary he sees, because Shane can respect a decent documentary. 

It is a short piece about a little and her Daddy. The young woman is cute, well-spoken, and seems like a normal millennial, outside of her 'little' persona. Her boyfriend is her Daddy, but she makes it very clear that they don't do sexual things while she is in little space. Some of it makes his stomach feel a little weird, but he isn't sure why; is it a good-weird or a bad-weird? He clicks out of the video and immediately deletes it from his YouTube history. Maybe he'll save the research for his favorite researcher friend and just...roll with things as they come.

Shane re-reads Ryan's manifesto too, especially the parts about Big/little and ageplay dynamics. Some of it seems really nice. He wants to be taken care of and treated gently and all that kind of thing. But he also feels a deep discomfort with the "weirdness" of it all; it _ is _way out of the mainstream. A lot of people seemed to think it is sick, or wrong, or perverted. It definitely seems misunderstood at the very least. Shane is a pretty open-minded person, but he still feels a sense of shame about wanting this. And he hates that shame, because he knows that what he wants is harmless: it won’t hurt anyone, it is between consenting adults, and it isn’t illegal or immoral. But the feeling persists.

He tells Sara what Ryan said, that he thinks Shane might have little tendencies. She is his girlfriend, his best friend and the only person he spends more time with than Ryan, and if she hates it or it freaks her out, well, that is an air-tight reason not to explore the little thing further. It isn’t an easy thing to admit out loud to her. What if she thinks he is a freak, or a pervert? What if she decides she can’t date a guy who might be interested in something weird like that?

Instead, Sara merely smiles at him and says, "Aww, I bet you'd be fucking precious," which is not the expected response. "I mean, I don't know much about it, but like, according to Ryan's primer, it's basically just relaxing and letting someone take care of you from time to time. And we all need that, don't we? You're just doing it in a more, I don't know, like deliberate kind of way? That's not bad. If Ryan wants to baby you, and you want to let him, go for it."

"Well, babying might not be the word I'd use," Shane protests slightly, feeling his gut swoop at the idea. 

"Oh, whatever. I know you like to be babied a little, Shane. I've seen you with a cold before!"

And Shane laughs, because if he thinks of it like that… Yeah, Sara is right. And her casual acceptance lifts an invisible weight from his chest.

"I love you, like, a whole fucking lot" he says that night as they get into bed. He spoons up behind her back and wraps his arm over her.

"I love you too, like, the same fucking way" she says with a little laugh, pressing a kiss to his hand where it crosses her chest. "Stop worrying so much. Do what makes you happy, babe."

He supposes if his girlfriend is cool with Ryan spanking him, it isn't the biggest stretch to be chill with Ryan in a caretaker role. 

Now if only he can find a way to accept it for himself.

* * *

As for Ryan, he has a plan.

He's seen it on Shane's face and in his mannerisms. He'd been pretty sure of it after that first night, when he'd spanked Shane on the set of _Unsolved._ The belief was made stronger after they hashed out the minutia of consent and boundaries that second night, and Shane had fallen asleep against his side on the couch. 

But Ryan is a researcher, so he immediately turns to the internet and falls down a rabbit hole. And during this deep dive, he learns a ton and feels that his hunch is basically confirmed. He also gets a slightly sneaky idea.

Shane has already given his consent, and they’ve established a safeword apiece, just in case they were ever needed. If Shane wants him to, Ryan will obviously stop...but right now, Ryan just wants to see if he can help Shane feel little without explicitly telling him that he is trying to make him feel little.

He starts doing small things.

First, he brings him water at his desk when Shane starts talking about needing more coffee and tells him, “Drink it. You're dehydrated."

He feels a certain sense of satisfaction when Shane rolls his eyes but drinks the water. It echoes pleasantly of that first night, which is narratively satisfying and makes the filmmaker in Ryan happy.

"You're not slick," Shane says as though he can read Ryan's mind.

"I have no idea what you mean by that," Ryan says. But he grins, and Shane smiles back almost shyly.

Ryan also drops some of the personal weirdness he has around touch. He has already spanked the big guy; it isn't like throwing an arm around his back or letting their arms touch is anywhere near as weird as that! And he knows Shane notices, because he responds in kind, and as someone who (unlike Ryan) is used to showing his affection physically, that means that Ryan is spending more time getting bumped into, or leaned on, or hugged. And honestly, it is kind of nice. Why the hell has he made it weird for so long? Literally everyone needs at least some human touch. Like, babies die without it even. He vaguely remembers a study about monkeys or something that he’d learned about in college.

It is getting near the end of the day on Friday, and Ryan is exhausted. He is working on some editing for the Giorgio Tsoukalos, Ancient-Aliens-esque part of the episode, but there isn't much of a rush; they have several weeks to get the finished project up to Cesar for final approval. He is happy enough when Shane comes up behind him and leans over to look at the screen, resting his chin on the top of Ryan's head. "How's it coming?" Shane asks. "You gonna stop any time soon?"

Ryan sighs. "I dunno. Why?" He can't really look up at Shane since his head is literally stacked on top of Ryan’s own, so he just saves his work.

He feels a hand touch his arm; it is way too small to be Shane's. "You wanna come for dinner tonight?" Sara asks. "I'm making cream cheese blintzes."

"I don't know what that is, but sure," Ryan says. "Sounds better than what I was gonna make. God, you've got a pointy chin on you, Shane."

"What were you planning on making?" Shane asks, but he stands up. Ryan shuts his computer down.

"I dunno. Sandwiches, probably. Or a pit stop at In-N-Out." The three of them began walking together towards the parking garage. "But if Sara's making food-food, you know I'm down."

"She makes a damn good blintz," Shane says, wrapping his free arm around Ryan's neck. "They're like little cream cheese and ricotta filled pancakes rolled up and fried like the Jewish version of a burrito."

"That sounds amazing," Ryan says, and he steps slightly closer to prevent Shane from accidentally choking him. 

"Honestly, they're not hard, it's all about the prep," Sara replies. "But yeah, the batter has been chilling in the fridge since last night, so these should be pretty good."

As they come around a corner, they nearly bounce off of Curly and Gadiel, who are each carrying a large chair. Ryan is suddenly very aware of how Shane's left arm is slung around his shoulder while Shane's right hand holds Sara's. Well, fuck it. Curly can think whatever he wants. 

"Ah, shit, sorry!" Gadiel says with that wide grin of his, going around them. Curly pauses for a second, studying them all and looking pleased. Ryan really wishes he knows what to make of that.

"Have a good night, you guys," he says, and then calls, _ "¡Mierda, Gadiel, espera! Esta es pesada." _

The three of them are quiet for a moment as they continue down the hallway and into the parking garage before Sara asks, "Ry, do you know what Curly said?"

Ryan knows he is shitty at speaking Spanish, but he does know some, so he shrugs. "I think he just told Gadiel to wait because the chair was heavy," Ryan says. "Nothing, you know, gossipy." God, he hopes that for once, the BuzzFeed gossip mill will just…miss something.

Ryan can see his car, and he gently ducks out from under Shane's arm. "I'll see you guys there," he says.

“Race you!” Shane says with a laugh, and hand-in-hand, he and Sara tear off across the parking lot towards their car. Ryan can't help the wheezy laugh it pulls from him.

Traffic is, as usual, fucking awful, but Shane and Sara don't live that far from BuzzFeed and it takes less than an hour to get where they are going. He just listens to the latest 'My Favorite Murder' anyway, which really helps it suck less.

They make it there slightly before him because he'd needed to stop for gas, so when he knocks, he hears Sara call, "Come in Ryan, it's open!"

They both are in the kitchen. Sara appears to be making pancakes, no, crepes, while Shane is using a blender to mix different kinds of cheese together. "Grab a spatula so we can scrape all this goodness out of here," Shane orders, and Ryan opens the utensil drawer with a smirk. It only takes him a moment to find the perfect one.

_ Smack! _ The wooden spoon lands with a good, hard pop on the left side of Shane's backside, launching him forward. "Ow!" Shane yelps indignantly, his hand going back to shield his butt. "What was that for? I didn't even do anything!"

"Don't be so bossy; you could at least say ‘please’," Ryan says, but he grins, holding up a pretty hefty wooden spoon. He knows they chose it for cooking purposes, but it makes a very nice spanking tool, with interesting wood colors threaded through it and also enough weight and size to be a formidable implement.

From her place at the stove, Sara laughs with sparkling eyes. "Nice shot!" she giggles.

Shane rubs at his bottom and looks mildly pouty. "I thought you were supposed to be on my side," he says to Sara. 

She shrugs. "Better listen to Ry; looks like he knows how to keep you in line. Lord knows someone should." Then she looks at Ryan. "Also, you should probably let him help me roll up these blintzes to fry so we can eat in a timely manner. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving."

"Of course," Ryan says, gesturing at the blender with the wooden spoon. "Don't let me stop you!" He reaches back into the drawer and grabs a silicon spatula that he hands over to Shane.

Shane huffs, but there is laughter in it. He very deliberately angles himself so his butt is not within smacking distance before he starts taking Sara’s crepes and scooping filling onto them, wrapping each like a tiny burrito before returning it to her to fry. 

They look and smell amazing.

The meal is great, and they make enough that even Ryan can eat his fill. Sara plops six on his plate in the beginning. "Eat whatever you'd like; there's more on the stove," she says, and Ryan certainly does. He _ likes _himself into at least a slight bellyache from the amount he mows down.

Afterwards, all three of them end up snuggled on the couch, with Sara curled up against Shane’s side, and Shane curled up against Ryan’s, watching Sara's current favorite, Bob's Burgers. 

It should feel weird to have his arm around Shane’s shoulder while Shane has Sara’s back tucked against his chest, but it doesn't. Her hair is pressed against Ryan’s arm too, and something about it feels cozy and comfortable and familial and _ right _. 

"Have fun in...no, be good in Georgia," Sara says, and then glances up at Ryan. "You wanna borrow that spoon for the trip?" God, Sara has a wicked sense of humor, and Ryan can really appreciate it.

Ryan grins as he feels Shane squirm, just a little, under his arm. "I suppose I should," he says, "just in case Shane can't behave himself properly around all the southern ghosts."

Shane groans, "Ghosts aren't real, so my behavior around them hardly matters."

"Bzzzt, wrong answer buddy," Ryan says. "You should be respectful, because there could be ghosts there whether you believe it or not. You could be wrong, and you don't get to be an asshole to them just because you're skeptical." Feeling very daring, he reaches down and casually pats Shane’s hip. He wonders if Shane reads it as the teasing spanking threat that it is. "It's not nice."

Sara's head pivots, and he knows her eyes are glued on that hand. Ryan can’t really hold that position because of how fucking tall Shane is, so he leans back into a more comfortable one. Her head turns and their eyes meet. "You mind if that spoon makes the trip with us?" he asks with a little wink.

Sara lets out a delighted crow of laughter. "It's all yours," she says. 

"We bought that thing at the Renaissance Faire!” Shane protests. “I don’t think you should just--”

Ryan laughs out loud. “What, really?” he says.

“Yeah,” Sara says. “Why’s that funny?” Now both she and Shane are looking at Ryan, their heads tilted back at similar angles.

Ryan snorts. “There’s a lot of kinky people kickin’ around the Renaissance Faire,” he says. “I picked up my favorite flogger there.” And some really nice wrist cuffs too. “Never saw the spoon maker though. I would have been tempted.”

“You can borrow it,” Sara says. “It’s not actually all that great for cooking, despite how pretty it is, because the spoon part is pretty thick. Maybe the woodworker had a different use in mind. He made other stuff too, decorations, chess boards, cutting boards...”

Even my own girlfriend is against me," Shane mutters, though he seems good-natured about it. He doesn't pull away from either of them. "I'm gonna come home with a behind that's spotted like a Dalmatian."

"Well, be a good boy then so I won't have to spank you," Ryan says, his tone carefully, deliberately dismissive. "I'm sure you're capable."

And oh damn, apparently those are the magic words, because Shane turns his head to glare up at Ryan again. "I _ am _!" he insists under his breath. His bottom lip sticks out ever-so-slightly in a pout. “You’re making fun of me!” He adjusts Sara against his chest so he has a free hand, and promptly bites at the bent middle knuckle of his pointer finger.

“Maybe a little bit,” Ryan admits. He’s seen him do that before, and it is goddamn adorable. He still is not ready for how cute he finds the little version of Shane. He tightens his arm over Shane protectively. 

“That’s mean,” Shane says. “Sara, he’s being mean to me.” There is very much a whine in his voice.

Ryan looks nervously to Sara, wondering if this is too much for her. It is one thing to be okay with the idea of something; what does she think of the reality?

She looks very relaxed, curled up in Shane's arm with her head tilted back on his chest. Apparently, she really _ is _ fine with it, even gently amused if the quirk of her lips means anything. “Oh, Ryan, don’t be so mean to the poor boy,” she says, a hint of laughter in her tone. 

"Aw, okay,” Ryan says softly. God, they've all gotten so lucky here. “I know you're a good boy, Shane."

Shane continues to pout silently for a while before he gets distracted by what is happening on the TV. They stay like that through a second full episode of Bob's Burgers, before Shane comes back up from the edges of subspace. It is noticeable mostly because he pulls his finger out of his mouth and wipes it against the other arm of his shirt.

"God, we've got so much to do before that flight on Monday," he says. Ryan pats Shane's chest, sending errant violet curls bouncing.

"Just get yourself packed and don't be an asshole to the ghosts. I've got the rest mostly arranged." Which is normal enough; Ryan tends to arrange these things, and Katie signs off. It is the last big traveling episode of the season, so he wants it to be good.

"Alright," Shane says. "I trust you."

And that isn't unusual either, but Ryan still feels his chest swell with the fullness of it.

* * *

Moon River Brewing is particularly boring. For one thing, the place is just a bar. Now, Shane likes bars occasionally, if he is in them to drink and have a good time. But now, he's here to wander around in the dark and play with (nonexistent) ghost children. Literally nothing interesting is happening. Even Ryan doesn’t seem particularly nervous.

Ryan also hates the mustache. “What the hell?” he’d asked when he’d seen Shane that morning at the airport. “You grew a whole damn mustache over the weekend?”

Shane had made some lame excuse about being lazy and just stopping. He hadn’t told him that it was his own way of reminding himself that he a ghost hunter, and not just...a little, or whatever, with Ryan. 

Ryan might be scared of ghosts, but Shane is more afraid that he is going to do or say something on camera that will ‘out’ him not just to TJ, Devon, and Mark, but also to their fans. The mustache, he hopes, will help him stay focused, at least somewhat.

He'd told Ryan that he was willing to try the little thing. He'd even fallen into a little bit of it at home, with Sara right there. But they had agreed that on-camera, nothing would change. So, it seems kind of unfair to pull _ that _ voice out on camera, with their crew at their heels, when everyone is sleep-deprived, and despite himself, Shane is getting snippy.

It honestly goes fine, until they are in with the “sick children” (literally an empty room) when Ryan is trying to get the kids to play with them. Because he is using that voice, the soft, talking-to-children voice that makes Shane feel, well, little. 

Shane snaps defensively at Ryan after a particularly stupid moment.

“We’ve got it too?” he questions, putting every ounce of skepticism in his voice. “That’s a weird thing to say.”

“Yeah, I know, it felt weird,” Ryan says, making a face. They wait in the dark, listening for any ghostly children who might feel inclined to play.

But there is nothing there, except silence and their crew staring at them intently. Out of sheer boredom, Shane begins to pick a fight about if Ryan actually believes in ghosts or not. And Ryan is punchy and defensive, because it is getting late and everyone is jet lagged and exhausted. But even watching Ryan get too defensive isn’t actually fun tonight, because Shane feels like a bow strung way too tight and on the verge of snapping.

“Can we be done yet?” Shane asks. “Can we go stand in our dumb, dark little time-out for a few minutes so we can get the fuck out of here?” He can’t cross his arms over his chest because of the ghost-hunting rig, and he feels unusually annoyed by that. “I just wanna go to bed.”

Ryan shoots him a look. “Yeah, I think that’s a good idea,” he replies. “Let’s go to the basement, and you can stand in _ time-out _ first.” The emphasis seems very noticeable to Shane’s ear.

Shane feels his belly swoop nervously, but he is also glad. “Thank fuck,” he says. “Come on, let’s go.”

The thing about the basement, though, is that Ryan’s talking-to-children voice comes back out in full force. Shane tries to imitate it, but honestly, he is pretty sure he sounds creepy more than anything. (The mustache, he has to admit, does give him a kind of 'weird-uncle' vibe.) As usual, nothing happens, except that Shane’s stomach feels squeezy and weird every time Ryan talks to “Toby” in that voice. He doesn’t like feeling wobbly and small in front of their friends and coworkers while it inches closer to three in the morning. He’s never been so relieved when Ryan finally suggests that they split up.

As the crew gathers their cameras and tripods and the rest, Ryan sidles up next to Shane and nonchalantly reaches over to turn off the lav mic that is hooked on the back of Shane’s belt. "Get down here," he mutters, tugging slightly on Shane’s shirt sleeve.

Shane glances over towards the crew, but they are all busily hauling equipment up the stairs, and no cameras are on. So, reluctantly, he bends his knees so Ryan can speak directly into his ear, wondering if Ryan is about to ream him out. _ I probably deserve it. _ He _ has _ been kind of an asshole today.

"Listen, buddy, I know you're tired, but we're nearly finished. Just hang in there a little longer.” Ryan’s voice is unexpectedly supportive, and Shane, who is expecting anger and frustration, isn't braced at all for kindness.

He lets out a tired sigh and tilts his head to rest on Ryan’s, feeling a little like a deflated balloon. Ryan pats his back just below the strap of the ghost-cam rig.

“Come on, Madej," Ryan encourages. "Pull a little bit of that late-night crazy out of wherever it comes from and give the fans a good show. Then we can go back to the hotel and get some sleep, alright?”

Shane takes a deep breath and stands up straight. “One dark, punch-drunk Madej comin’ right up,” he says, trying to inject some mildly spooky life into his voice.

“Atta boy,” Ryan says. He reaches over and turns Shane’s mic back on, then reaches behind himself to turn on his own. “Ghoulboys, baby!” he says. “Let’s wrap this thing up so you can shave off the damn mustache!”

* * *

Their checkout is at 11am, so they only get a couple of hours of sleep. Because the place is a bar, and not somewhere gross and cobwebbed, Shane flatly refuses to shower and only changes into sweatpants because Ryan grabs them from his bag and lobs them at him. He sees on Shane’s face that he only changes because it takes less time than arguing.

Whatever. Ryan is satisfied with that.

They both fall asleep on the plane ride home due to sheer exhaustion. Ryan is very glad that they are done filming on location for awhile.

That means that they have a little more time on their hands than usual, because they aren’t actively filming. And Ryan isn’t sure about Shane, but he personally really wants to do another scene. 

He snags Shane’s arm as they leave a meeting about the screening order of the latest season of Unsolved. “You doing anything this weekend?” he asks.

Shane shrugs. “Not really. Sara wants to hit up the flea market on Saturday morning, but otherwise it’s pretty open. Why, what were you thinking?”

A couple of interns hurry past carrying boxes of props, and Ryan feels a little self-conscious. “I, uh, I thought we could work on, you know, that little thing we were working on.” _ Good, Ryan. Really subtle. Not at all weird. _ He nearly rolls his eyes at himself.

“Oh. Oh, sure, that sounds good,” Shane says. “I, uh, just need to talk to Sara about it before.”

“Sure,” Ryan says. He looks over at his friend, or more particularly, his friend’s mustache. “And dude, the mustache has to go. I’m so tired of looking at that thing.”

“I like the mustache!” Shane replies.

Ryan inquires, “Do you really? Or do you just like getting a rise out of me with the damn thing?”

Shane laughs. “Fine, fine. I’m not really that attached.” He rubs his fingers over it. “But it is kind of fun watching you hate it so much.”

“I knew it,” Ryan says. “I called it in freaking Georgia!”

* * *

> **_Shane Madej: Ryan wants to come over this weekend. I told him we’re doing the flea market thing on Saturday morning. Am I forgetting anything?_ **
> 
> ** _Sara Rubin: That’s fine. When were you thinking?_ **
> 
> ** _Shane Madej: IDK. _ **
> 
> ** _Shane Madej: You have anything you want to do this weekend without me?_ **
> 
> ** _Sara Rubin: I’ve got a hair appointment on Saturday afternoon. That’ll give you a good chunk of time. _ **
> 
> ** _Sara Rubin: That shit takes forever._ **
> 
> ** _Shane Madej: Perfect. ♥️_ **

* * *

Shane is so nervous. He doesn't know why; he hasn’t been this nervous since that first night, when he’d asked Ryan if he was willing to spank him, and he’d been half-sure that he’d have to play that off as a joke to keep Unsolved from falling to pieces. But now, he can feel the buzz, like electricity, under his skin. He turns on Netflix just to have something to pretend to do with himself, but he is absolutely missing the details of whatever nature documentary passes his eyes.

The knock at the door sends him flying to his feet. He opens it to Ryan, who is dressed casually in a gray hoodie and jeans. “Hey, buddy, come on in,” Shane says, too loud and slightly manic. He sees Ryan’s eyebrows go way, way up.

“Hey, how’s it going?” Ryan asks. He comes inside and shuts the door behind him, locking it. “I see you still have the mustache. You change your mind?"

Shane bolts for the kitchen just to have something to do with his hands. He grabs a pair of glasses from the cupboard and pulls the pitcher from the fridge. “You want something to drink?” he asks, filling a glass with water and not answering Ryan’s question. He’d debated shaving the mustache or not this morning, but had never gotten around to it. He finishes the whole damn glass of water before turning back to his friend.

“Sure,” Ryan says. “Water’s good.” He grabs the remote from the coffee table and turns off the TV. 

In the silence, Shane fills a glass for Ryan, then refills his own before putting the pitcher back into the fridge. He passes the unused glass, printed with tiny sailboats, to Ryan. He takes a drink.

“You alright, bud? You seem weird,” Ryan says. Shane takes another sip of water and shakes his head.

“I feel weird,” he says.

Ryan sinks down onto one of the bar stools. “Okay,” he says. “You wanna talk about it?”

Shane gives a little shrug. “Not really,” he says. “I just...god, this is so awkward.”

Ryan shrugs too. “I mean, the start of this kind of thing often is,” he says. “Do you not want to do it?”

Shane shakes his head before he even really considers Ryan’s words. “No…no. I want to do this,” he says, staring down at the rim of the glass in his hand. That part, at least, he knows. But also, he is frozen between want and fear.

“Do you trust me?” Ryan asks.

Shane’s eyes pop up then to meet his friend’s. His dark eyes are watching him closely. “You know that I do,” he says.

“Okay, then,” Ryan says, and he stands and walks around until he is directly in front of Shane. Gently, he takes the glass of water from Shane’s hand and sets it on the counter top. “Come with me,” he says, turning to go down the hallway.

Shane follows, feeling his heart-rate pick up slightly. “Um, Ryan?” he says. “What are we doing?”

Ryan stops outside of the guest bathroom. “Get your razor and stuff,” he says. “Bring it here.”

Shane raises his own eyebrows. “What? Why?” it almost seems like a no sequitur. What the hell does shaving have to do with any of this?

Ryan gives him a very firm look. “I told you the mustache had to go, but someone wasn’t a very good listener,” he says, his tone condescending. Shane feels his stomach flutter slightly. “So, I’m gonna help you. Now, go get it.”

The look on his face harbors no argument, so Shane turns, goes into the master bedroom and silently gets his shave kit. He glances at himself in the mirror. His eyes are wide with repressed anxiety.

“Hurry up,” Ryan calls, and Shane jumps. “You’re already on thin ice, mister.”

He swallows and hurries back out to the hallway where Ryan is waiting with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Give that to me,” Ryan says, unfolding his arms and holding out a hand. Silently, Shane hands off his shaving kit. It is the same one he’s brought on countless trips for Unsolved .

Ryan nods and gestures into the open bathroom. “After you, sir,” he says. It is not an unusual thing for Ryan to say, but the honorific seems more mocking than usual.

Shane scuttles awkwardly past Ryan into the guest bathroom, which is a decent size but not exactly a huge space when there are two grown men inside. Ryan is right behind him, and Shane can’t help but wonder if he is deliberately refusing him the space to keep him on his toes.

If so, it's fucking working.

“Sit on the toilet,” he orders Shane, who freezes.

“I’m…what? I…” His hands go protectively to the button of his chinos. "Ryan, no," he says. His voice wobbles.

Ryan cocks his head to the side, then suddenly laughs. “No, not like that. Seriously, Shane? Jesus Christ,” he says, and puts his fingertips on the middle of Shane’s chest. “Just sit on the lid.” He gives Shane a slight push backwards, and Shane sits.

“Sorry, I didn’t…” He feels ridiculously awkward. “I just wasn’t sure what you…you know, you meant.”

Ryan’s hand runs distractedly over Shane’s hair. “Take a breath, buddy, you're wound way too tight,” he says, and Shane does. He watches as Ryan pushes up his sleeves, runs water in the sink, and pulls things from his shaving kit. Shane's electric razor, his normal razor, a can of shaving cream. All normal things, but now oddly fascinating.

He watches Ryan’s hands closely as they assemble the electric razor. “Turn your face up,” Ryan says, and his hand goes under Shane’s chin to lift it. Shane takes a shaky breath when their eyes meet. _ Holy shit, what is happening ? _ _ This is so intense._ He closes his eyes as his stomach flips.

The buzz of the razor seems loud, and it tickles as Ryan runs it across his face, focusing especially on his upper lip. Then the noise cuts off, and he feels Ryan step back. He opens his eyes again.

Ryan sprays a small amount of shaving cream on his hands and turns back towards Shane. “Head up,” he orders again, and Shane obeys. Ryan’s fingertips begin to paint his face with the shaving cream, steady and sure. When Ryan’s hands spread the shaving cream across his neck, he swallows reflexively. He feels like a dog baring its throat.

Ryan blinks quickly a couple of times, his fingers light against Shane's nervous pulse.

“Good boy,” he says, his voice soft, and Shane feels himself slump. For whatever reason, these are the words that seem to render him helpless.

Ryan turns and rinses his hands off, then takes Shane’s razor. “Alright, now you’ve got to hold still for me,” he says, holding up the razor. “I don’t want to cut you.”

Shane nods slightly and doesn’t resist as Ryan uses his hand to tighten the skin on Shane’s face. It is an efficient but not hurried thing, as Ryan removes the stubble from both cheeks, his chin, and his neck. Shane is barely breathing as the razor slides carefully over his Adam’s apple.

“Alright, now the upper lip,” Ryan says. He contorts his face. “Go like this for me.”

Shane obediently tightens his lip like he would if he were shaving himself, and Ryan scrapes off the shortened remains of the mustache. He rinses the razor and takes a hand towel off the rack to dampen with water. Then he wipes the extra shaving cream from Shane’s face.

“That’s much better,” Ryan says, sounding satisfied. His hand comes up and pats Shane’s cheek lightly. “Now you look like my boy again.”

_ Ryan’s boy. _ And he knows Ryan isn’t saying it in the jock way, in the way that he usually calls someone his boy. He's saying it like Shane is his _little_.

_ God. _ That is an intense realization.

Shane’s stomach feels like the weightless plummet from the top of a roller coaster and he isn’t prepared for how much he wants that. Shane runs his hand over his smooth face as Ryan rinses out the hand towel and hangs it to dry over the shower rod. He bites anxiously at his knuckle, watching as Ryan puts his shaving kit back together.

“Okay, go put this away,” Ryan says, handing him the shaving kit. “Then come out to the living room, because you and I need to have a little talk.” There is something in his tone that tells Shane there isn't going to be all that much _ talking _ in this talk.

Shane feels his stomach lurch, but he obediently returns the shaving kit to where it belongs. Then he walks out to the living room, where Ryan is waiting for him.

He is sitting in the middle of the couch, looking expectant. Shane makes his way over to the couch, and Ryan pats the seat next to him. “Sit down, big guy,” he says.

Shane sits.

“So, funny thing,” Ryan says. “I would have sworn that on Thursday, I told you that you needed to shave that mustache off before I got here today.” He raises an eyebrow. “Do you remember that?”

Ryan’s voice is a little dark, and Shane hunches slightly. He nods.

“Mm-hmm, so you did remember,” Ryan says. “And yet, I got here, and it was still there, in all its caterpillar glory. Why’s that?”

Shane hunches a little more. “I dunno,” he says, his voice small. The way Ryan is talking to him makes him want to hide. He feels like a kid who colors on the wall and is found with crayon in hand.

“Really?” Ryan says. “Because I think you do.” His voice is smooth. “I think someone was trying to test my limits and see how much of a little brat he could get away with being.”

Shane wraps his arms around himself. He can’t say he’d thought about it in exactly those words, but Ryan also isn’t wrong. He shrugs.

“I see,” Ryan says, and his voice is that sure, certain voice, the voice that gives orders and expects to be obeyed. “Well, that’s not acceptable. I think you need a good spanking to remind you who’s in charge here and who's just a naughty little boy. Don't you?”

Shane feels a thrill run through his body that is equal parts fear and anticipation. It is strong enough that he actually shivers. He sees Ryan smirk slightly before adjusting his face into neutrality again.

“And I think you better go grab that wooden spoon,” he adds. “I might need it to make sure that the lesson sticks.”

Shane stares at Ryan for a second, and Ryan just gazes back expectantly. “Go on,” he says firmly. 

Slowly, Shane stands up and walks into the kitchen like he is in a dream. He opens the utensil drawer and grabs the spoon before turning and walking back over to Ryan on the couch.

Ryan holds out his hand, and Shane hands him the thing that will really, really hurt his poor behind. His heart is beating faster in his chest. “Ry…” he says weakly.

Ryan reaches up and grabs his wrist. “Uh-uh, Shane. I expect you to be a good boy and do what you’re told. You didn’t do that, did you?”

Shane shakes his head slightly. “’M sorry,” he says softly. His whole head feels fuzzy. He is hyper-aware of Ryan’s hand wrapped around his wrist. He has strong hands.

“We’ll see about that,” Ryan replies. He scoots back slightly on the couch and pats his leg. “Come on, now.” 

He tugs on Shane, and Shane doesn't resist, allowing himself to be deliberately laid over Ryan's lap.

Shane’s heart thumps hard as Ryan positions him. The couch holds much of his weight, unlike the night on the Unsolved set, but he still feels ridiculously vulnerable, with his butt higher than the rest of him. It is supremely obvious that he is about to get spanked. Ryan’s hand is solid on his back, holding him in place. Shane buries his face in his crossed arms to hide the slow flush he feels climbing up his face.

“Tell me your word before we start, Shane,” Ryan says. “I want to know you remember it.”

Shane swallows hard. “Uh…cry uncle? Uncle?” he says, with an up-tone like a question. Ryan pats his back.

“Okay,” he says. Shane flinches when Ryan’s hand settles lightly against his left butt cheek, and he hears Ryan let out a soft huff.

“At least save it for when I actually start, bud,” he says, and his tone is amused. And then his hand comes down hard.

Shane gasps. He doesn’t know if Ryan hit harder now, or if he’s just forgotten how much last time had hurt, but it hardly matters, because it hurts a lot. The smacks echo through the living room, loud in the relative silence, and every time Ryan's hand lands, Shane's nerve endings release new shocks of pain.

He seems to be pretty purposeful in not striking in any real pattern while still making sure he catches every inch of backside with sharp, terrible swats. Every time Shane tries to wince away, Ryan's hand drops somewhere else, just as hard and burning.

Shane can hear himself whimpering, and he can’t help the flinches that come with each fall of Ryan's hand. He doesn’t know how many he's already gotten, but it seems like it has been a very long spanking. Pain tends to do weird things to time, Shane notes.

“Ow!” Shane whines childishly when he can't hold it back, bucking as Ryan's hand comes down in the _ same exact place _ again. Ryan’s other hand presses hard against his back to hold him in place.

“You’re being a squirmy little thing,” Ryan says in that talking-to-children voice, and Shane feels himself flush straight to the roots of his hair. “Why aren’t you holding still?”

“It hurts!” Shane cries. Another hard flurry of swats lands right at his seat, and he lets out a wail, kicking his legs against the couch cushions. It doesn't seem to help.

“Uh-huh,” Ryan says. “You should have listened to what I told you, bud, so that I didn’t have to spank you. And instead, you purposefully decided not to listen, like a naughty little brat.”

Shane feels his tummy squeeze at Ryan’s words. He tucks his knuckle in his mouth, feeling his eyes prickle. “I’m sorry!” he mumbles around his finger. “Ow! Ry, ‘m sorry! I won’t be a brat!”

"Hmm," Ryan muses aloud. His hand rubs over his butt, and Shane almost cries from the relief that it brings. He doesn’t even care that it's weird, not at this point.

The whole idea of what is weird has really been reset.

“You going to be a good listener for me now, big guy?” he asks. Shane nods emphatically.

“I’ll be good! I promise!” he says. His whole bottom is on fire, and he just wants Ryan to say it's okay, and that he isn’t mad, and that Shane is a good boy for him, and also for the spanking to be done.

Very, very much, he wants the spanking to be done. He's so sore...

“I think you need a few swats with the spoon,” Ryan says. “It’ll remind you why it’s important to behave yourself. Don’t you think?”

Shane lets out a dry sob. “No…Ry, please.” He's shaking. He isn’t sure if it's the pain or the feelings that are doing it, but either way, it's a lot.

He felt Ryan’s hand pause on his back. “You need to cry uncle, Shane?” he asks quietly.

Shane takes a deep, shaky breath and gives a tiny shake of his head.

“My brave boy,” Ryan says, and the pride in his voice is like a warm jolt to Shane’s chest. “Come on, buddy, let’s get this over with.”

He feels Ryan rooting around for the spoon, and he tenses his entire body, waiting. The spoon had really hurt that time in the kitchen, and that was before his bottom was already battered and tender.

“I want you to count for me,” Ryan says. “You’re going to count to five. You can do that, right?”

Shane shudders, but he wants to be brave, and a good listener, and not a brat, so he gives a little nod.

“Take your finger out of your mouth so you don’t bite yourself accidentally,” Ryan orders him softly. Reluctantly, Shane does, folding his arms under his head again.

“Okay. Here we go,” Ryan says. His arm tightens around Shane’s middle.

The spoon pops loudly against his right butt cheek, and Shane yelps. God, that hurts so much!

“I didn’t hear you, Shane,” Ryan says after a long, pained moment of Shane sucking air through his teeth.

“Oh! One! I’m sorry!” he begs. He can hardly even think because it hurts so much.

“Shh,” Ryan soothes, and his hand rubs at Shane’s back. The spoon comes down again on the other cheek.

“Oww! Two!” Shane whimpers. He clutches at the couch cushions.

_ SMACK! _ The third one falls where Ryan had left a bruise last time, and it nearly sends Shane through the stratosphere even though that old bruise is long healed. He lets out a loud cry and throws his hand back. “No!” he sobs, needing a moment to deal with how much it stings.

“Three,” Ryan reminds him, and Shane manages to stutter it out after him.

He is trying so hard to be good. Maybe Ryan sees it, because his words are encouraging.

“You’re doing great, buddy. Two more,” Ryan says. Very gently, he pulls Shane’s rogue hand up to the small of his back and holds it there.

Shane can feel the tears running down his face and onto the couch cushions. “I can’t!” he whines. “Ry, please!”

“You can,” Ryan says. The spoon lands loudly again, and Shane yells desperately.

“F-four!” he stutters. He doesn’t even have time to catch his breath before it comes down one last time, right in the center of his behind. He howls.

“Five, sweetheart,” he hears Ryan say as if from a far distance. _ Sweetheart. That was kind of weird, but nice. _

Usually only his mom calls him that .

“F-five,” he echos, his voice wrecked, and then Ryan pulls him up, moving him around like a ragdoll. He ends up with his knees on the floor, his arms clutching desperately around Ryan's middle, crying into his shoulder. He isn’t completely sure how he got here, but it doesn’t matter anyway.

“Shh, okay. Just breathe for me,” Ryan says. His hand is patting a soft rhythm against Shane’s back. "All done. You're okay. You did so good."

"Ry, 'm sorry," he cries. His face is smushed against Ryan's shoulder. "Please don't be mad!"

"Shhh. I'm not mad, sweetheart." Ryan's hand presses against his head, like Shane really is little. "You made a naughty choice, but you took your spanking, and now you're forgiven, okay?" Something about his words and his voice make Shane feel absolutely tiny, and he clings to Ryan.

"You sure?" Shane snuffles uncertainly. 

"I'm sure. Let me see your face, buddy," Ryan says, and Shane doesn't want to let go, but he desperately wants to be a good boy, so he reluctantly pulls back. 

"Aw, there you are," Ryan says, his voice warm. Shane sniffles. Ryan smiles and brushes tears off his face with the edges of his knuckles. "There's my good boy," he says softly. He looks to the side and grabs a couple of tissues from the box on the end table. “Blow your nose, bud.”

Shane takes them and blows his nose before shoving it into his pants pocket. Even that small movement of material shifting over his sore bottom makes his backside throb.

“Good job,” Ryan says. He opens his arms again.

Shane sighs and leans back into Ryan. He feels Ryan rock him slightly from side to side. It's nice.

After a long while, Ryan says, "Buddy, I know you don't care right now, but your knees are really gonna hurt tomorrow if you stay like that. Can you come lay on the couch with me instead?"

Shane sighs, but he pulls back a little and reluctantly stands. His knees are already complaining once he moves off them.

Ryan scoots himself down to the end of the couch. "Okay, honey, you can lay down," he says, patting his right leg slightly. Shane carefully curls up on his side, using Ryan's thigh for a pillow, wincing until he finds a place to balance on his side where his sore bottom isn't pushing against the couch.

"You did so good. You're such a good boy for me," Ryan says. His hand rubs Shane's arm soothingly. "I'm proud of you, sweetheart."

And that is what he needs. He sighs and melts down against Ryan’s lap.

* * *

He can hardly feel his right leg, but honestly, he doesn't care. Shane is deep into littlespace, and he is currently curled up with his head on Ryan’s lap, looking like the most adorable little thing Ryan has ever seen, with his knuckle tucked in his mouth and his eyes on the TV, where Scooby and the gang were trying to solve a mystery.

Ryan hadn’t tried to resist. It was too thematically appropriate.

“You did so well today, buddy,” he says, playing with Shane’s hair. He can feel Shane breathing softly. It should be weird as hell, but all he feels is dopamine and oxytocin. “I’m really proud of you for relaxing and just letting me take care of you.”

“Mm-hmm,” Shane says. He is very obviously still deep under, in a place where there is no self-consciousness about any of this. It's beautiful.

"You make a cute little," he tells him. "Like honestly, you're just adorable like this." He really likes watching Shane trust him to do the right thing, to take care of him and even to punish him, but not too much. He'd seen the faith in Shane's face as he'd raised his head and exposed his neck both to Ryan's hands and that razor blade. Not just any sub would be willing to do something like that. He'd felt Shane's pulse hammering against his slippery fingers and realized that Shane understood the trust and submission he was showing. "You really are a good boy, Shane."

Shane shifts slightly. “Thank you, Ry,” he whispers around his finger. A tiny hint of a flush colors Shane's normally pale face, and honestly, Ryan kind of likes to see it. The big side of Shane barely ever blushes, but little Shane looks softly pink with the praise.

They watch as Scooby and Shaggy hide in a giant vase, only to turn and come face-to-face with the monster. Their legs motor in the air before they manage to run.

“Can you imagine seeing something like that on location somewhere?” Ryan asks. “I’m pretty sure I’d actually die. You and Teej would have to carry me home.”

“Yeah, but Ry, ghosts aren’t real,” Shane says, “so there’s nothing to worry about. You can’t die from a fake ghost.”

Ryan laughs. Apparently, even little Shane isn't about to believe in ghosts.

He looks down at Shane. "You know, buddy, that chewing-on-your-knuckle thing can't be sanitary," he reminds him for what feels like the hundredth time. 

Shane mumbles something that sounds a little like, "Don't care." _ Hmph. _ He's still a brat, after all. Pretty sure you can’t actually spank that out of a person.

"Are you gonna fall asleep on me?" Ryan asks. "You seem sleepy." Shane is barely watching the TV through lowered eyelashes.

"Am not," Shane says. "I'm fine." His grip on the calf of Ryan’s jeans tightens as though he thinks Ryan might try to push him loose. “‘M watching Scooby.”

"Alright," Ryan says, trying to shift him just enough to get a hint of circulation to his right foot. It isn't that he can't dislodge him; he is stronger than Shane. But honestly, looking down at his face all sleepy and sweet, he doesn't really have the heart for it.

"I'm a sucker," Ryan realizes out loud. "One cute little little and I'm ready to just baby the ever-loving shit out of you." He runs his fingers through Shane's hair.

"That's a bad word," Shane says, and his eyes open slightly. "You would give me a spanking if I said those kinds of words." 

"You say them while you're little and I will," Ryan says. "But you're gonna be a good boy for me, so that’s not going to happen, right?"

Shane nods shyly, still chewing gently on his knuckle. Ryan doesn’t bother to hide his smile. 

They watch two whole episodes of Scooby Doo together before Ryan thinks to glance at the clock.

"Alright buddy. Come back for me. You did so well today. I just wanna talk to Big Shane for a while, okay?"

Shane groans. "Don't wanna," he whines.

"Come on Shane. Come back up," he insists. "You can't stay little forever, and I know you don't really want to anyway. I want you to come back before Sara gets home."

Shane sighs and reluctantly sits up with a little flinch as his butt hits the seat, pulling his knuckle from his mouth and cracking his neck from side to side. Ryan winces as the blood circulation returns with a painful rush to his leg, but he stands and manages to hobble to the kitchen to grab Shane's glass of water. Next time, he's going to try to plan ahead if Shane is always going to be so clingy and cute afterwards.

"Here," he says, returning with the glass. Shane takes it and has a few decent swallows. Ryan sits back down next to him.

After about a minute of watching Shane stare at the TV screen and drink, Ryan asks, "Ok, buddy, how are you doing?"

There is a long pause. Suddenly, Shane plunks the glass on the table, then turns and hides his head against Ryan's shoulder.

"Oh shit, that's embarrassing," he mumbles, and _ that _ sounds more like the everyday version of his best friend, even if he is admitting embarrassment.

Ryan says, "I know, right? We've officially been out-ghost-hunted by Scooby and the gang!" He holds his breath, hoping his stupid joke will work.

Shane snickers. "Yeah, that's definitely the embarrassing part of the afternoon, all right, Ryan. You got it in one." The giggles keep coming, shaking Ryan's shoulder, and soon he's joining in despite himself.

It's barely even funny, but it does a pretty good job of breaking the tension between them after such an intense, new scene. Ryan wraps his arms around Shane, and after a moment, Shane returns the gesture.

“How are you feeling, big guy?” Ryan asks.

He feels Shane nod against his head. “Yeah, good,” he says. “My ass is sore as hell, but otherwise, I’m great.”

Ryan feels a surge of relief run through him. It was an intense scene, from beginning to end. Hearing Shane’s assurances that he's happy with what happened makes Ryan feel like he is on solid ground.

He can’t help that at his core, he is an anxious man. He needs reassurance too, even when he is in the Dominant role. He wants to do this right, so that it is an experience that is good for everyone involved. And he knew that he’d enjoyed what they’d done, but he just wants to make sure that Shane is good too.

Shane lets go and just leans against Ryan’s shoulder. He seems pretty content.

“You know,” Shane says, looking at the title card on the screen, “on Scooby, they’re not even ghosts. It’s always, like, some real estate developer throwing a temper tantrum over not getting the creepy old house he wanted.”

They’ve been friends for a long time, and Ryan immediately picks up the thread of the conversation.

“Listen, a heart attack is a heart attack,” he says. “Real ghost or real estate, doesn’t matter if I get scared to death.”

“You’d feel so foolish if you died of a heart attack because of a real estate developer,” Shane says.

“Yeah, and then I’d come back and haunt you until you brought me back on Unsolved as a special, featured ghost-guest.”

“Well, you wouldn’t be able to do that, because ghosts aren’t real,” Shane says. “You’d be off in the great wide blue of whatever may or may not happen in the afterlife.”

“Oh, honestly Shane. No one actually knows that!” Ryan says. “I very well could come back and haunt you.”

Shane shakes his head. “You really couldn’t,” he says. “But you know, you believe what you want to believe.”

Ryan elbows him. “You’re such a jerk.”

"You like it," Shane says. "You'd be so bored if there was nothing to debate."

"It would be so peaceful," Ryan says, pretending to daydream. "Nobody looking at clear-as-day evidence and pretending it's not compelling--"

"The evidence is way more compelling from Scooby and the gang, and guess what? The ghosts aren't real there either," Shane interrupts.

"Well, yeah, it's a cartoon. But if we got evidence that good in real life--"

"It still wouldn't be real evidence! It would be a convincing swindle!"

"Oh my God Shane, you're impossible," Ryan says, laughing.

Shane stands up, making sore little winces. He walks stiffly down the hallway and ducks into the bathroom. Ryan grabs the remote and changes the program to a nature documentary that had been started previously. Tiny baby penguins waddle across the screen while some British guy narrates.

"Think you're gonna bruise this time?" Ryan asks when Shane comes out of the bathroom. He walks into the kitchen and opens the fridge. Ryan stands. "I tried to be gentler on you with the spoon."

Shane scoffs. "That was your version of gentle?"

Ryan shrugs. "Still had to make it count," he says. He bends and grabs the spoon from where it was abandoned on the couch and carries it over to where Shane is pulling out a package of chicken thighs. Ryan takes a seat at the barstool and sips from the water he'd abandoned earlier.

"I dunno if it will bruise," Shane says. He glances at the spoon that Ryan put on the counter. "Last time, I didn't exactly check right away, so I don't know what this whole thing is gonna turn into." He pulls a glass cooking dish from under the counter and sprays it down with canola spray. "Right now, it's bright fucking pink."

Ryan laughs. He watches as Shane adds different seasonings over the chicken and positions them in the dish. "You need any help? I'm a shitty cook but I can at least follow directions."

"You want to make a salad? There's some greens in the bottom of the fridge that should get eaten before they go bad," Shane says.

"Sure," Ryan says. "And what do you want me to do with this thing?" He waggles the spoon in his hand.

Shane glares theatrically at the spoon. "I think you know exactly what I want you to do with that thing," he says. "I'll give you a hint: It's anatomically ill-advised."

Ryan throws his head back and laughs.

“God, Shane, you’re such a brat! You can’t even behave long enough that I can put the fuckin’ spoon away!” He stands up, holding it up in the air like he is threatening to thump him over the head with it. He won’t really, but it is still funny to watch Shane’s eyes widen as he picks up the bit.

“I already told you where you could put the damn spoon!” Shane counters, dancing further away. There is the click of a key in a lock. “Go ahead and shove it up your--”

“Hi boys!” Sara calls over their shenanigans. They both turn towards the door. 

Shane grins at Sara. “Hi babe! Oh, I like it! That color looks great on you.”

Ryan knew that Sara had gone for a hair appointment, but it is still an unexpected change. Her hair might or might not be just a little shorter, but it is definitely a deep, chocolatey brown. He gives a little wave. She waves back, then grins and fluffs at the edges of her hair with her hand.

“I thought it was time for a new color,” she says. 

“It does look good,” Ryan says. “I mean, the purple was nice too, but the brown really fits you.” 

She smiles. “Thanks, guys,” she says, kicking her shoes off at the entrance. She comes into the kitchen and gives Shane a kiss.

"You shaved the mustache," she says. "I think you're cute either way, but I have to say, I prefer you without it."

Shane snorts. "Yeah, I've heard that it's not really the 'look' for me," he says. "Hence why Ryan took matters into his own hands."

Sara turns her face towards Ryan. "Really?" she asks. Ryan nods.

"Hey, I warned him," he says, idly playing with the spoon in his hands.

Sara flashes an impish grin, then steals the spoon from Ryan’s hand. “I think if this is a thing that is no longer used for cooking, it should go over here,” she says, opening a drawer that seems to hold extra batteries, chip clips, and other miscellaneous things. She pats Ryan’s shoulder. “Works for you? Because you'll use it to beat Shane’s ass, but otherwise we don’t use it because it’s a terrible cooking spoon. It’ll save it some washing.”

“Sure,” Ryan says with a little snort. Shane turns to put the pan of chicken in the oven.

“Doesn’t work for me,” Shane says. “I think maybe it should go in the trash. Like you said, terrible spoon.”

“For cooking,” Ryan says, raising an eyebrow. “Obviously, it was meant for spanking and you just didn’t know it yet.”

“Just wait until you see what Ryan did to my poor rear end with that thing today,” Shane protests jokingly to his girlfriend. “You’ll be sorry you didn’t burn it!”

“Oh hush, Shane,” she teases. “We all know that you couldn’t be fucking happier about it.” She turns towards the fridge.

Ryan looka back to Shane just in time to see the corners of his mouth turn up in a mellow smile. “Whatever,” he says, but his eyes are soft and happy, just like Ryan knows his own will be if he glances in the mirror.

And really, that is all the further confirmation Ryan needs.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a review, or at least a kudos! Or hit me up at littlebunnywrites.tumblr.com


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